Shell
by Tomorrow
Summary: VxM. A brief look at what may have transpired between Vash and Meryl after his confrontation with Knives.


AN: This is my first shot at a Trigun fanfic, so I'm hoping it turned out all right. Thanks.

Disclaimer: I don't own Trigun, even though I wish I did.

Across the sky of the two suns were swept blades of rustic gold, wilted as the wind brushed the ridges' reddened dust and reek of blood through the feral strands. They were marred with faded crimson into dull, blood brown; they fell upon the face of the man that wandered the desert in abandon, carrying such a guileful burden on his back. His eyes were tired, tumultuous mirrors of soft cerulean that rested on the planes to come. He maintained a regretful gaze and disheveled stance as he only continued to walk onward in the sunlight that crept along his cheek, his torn cloak, the color of the wound that singed his brow, sliding along his legs as the gale took it, revealing more scars and bloodied gashes. Both recent and faint.

He stumbled, then, beneath the weight he bore, suppressing a groan as one of those recent injuries reopened to spit red along his abdomen and down his inner thigh. Deep, abysmal red that scalded his skin in warmth, drowning the pale grains he scaled in a spatter of crimson. But still he remained silent as he took another step across the sand, a bead of sweat falling from his forehead to trace a path beneath his chin, another from the tip of his nose. Sweat of heat— And of pain.

Yet the arm of the one he carried fell over the man's shoulder, hand dangling near the vagrant's ribs as the blonde figure dragged himself through that arid plain, a sharp intake of breath when he beheld a town waver in the distance from the levity of the heat. In that moment, when reticence claimed both wind and his own voice, he closed his eyes to revel in the surrender of traitorous memory: a two-faced phantom that could resurrect his past of guilt or return him to the contentment of those he left long ago. He fought a tear… and pressed onward into that distance, becoming mere shadow as he approached the city, walked through the streets nearly obscure to those he passed— To halt outside the home he'd left.

Beneath the wooden awning stood a woman with dark, black hair, similar to raven's wings as her bangs were taken by the breeze and grazed her fair cheek slightly, whispering across violet eyes made silver in that sunlight. The man said nothing, but simply watched her as she looked on to the horizon that bathed the land in warmth, his lips pulling into a soft smile as she soon turned to see him standing there. Look of faint lavender meeting such stale green.

Her eyes widened, mouth partially agape as she beheld him there, her body taking a hesitant step forward as from her lips she breathed, "Milly…"

She took another step toward the weary figure, her boots setting on the sand as she descended from the porch to whisper again, louder and more urgency threatening her voice as she spoke: "Milly…"

"Yeah Meryl, what's wro…" but the tall woman couldn't finish her sentence when she saw him, all former thoughts replaced with intuitive hesitation; near mistrust; yet a rising hope she couldn't squelch when her eyes found that cape billowing with the zephyr that surrounded him. Unknown rapture coursed through her the longer she stared at the man, soon followed by a smile, as she in such a faith refused to question providence.

"Vash…"

"Mr. Vash!" The brown-haired girl cried out in glee as she ran toward the gunman with tears in her eyes, allowing Meryl's earlier plea to drift into a forgotten abyss of omission as the small woman remained transfixed. Lonely in her doubt.

"Hey, Big Girl! It's good to see you again… but I'm kind of injured here, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't hug me right now, okay?" the Stampede replied happily as he held out his free arm to stop her from coming any closer, another, new bead of sweat dripping down the side of his face as he tried to discourage her gently.

"Oh, okay Mr. Vash. Whatever you say. But can I help you with that, Mr. Vash?" Milly asked him with a grin, pointing to the shadowed burden that still rested on the gunman's back, silhouetted in the lethal bask of the twin suns above.

"Leave him alone, Milly. Can't you see he's injured?" Meryl's voice rose amidst their exchange, starved and almost weary as she looked into his eyes of such teal sheen, her own so forsaken that his smile fell with their shared gazes. Moment sincere.

Time seemed to fade as they stood rigidly, soul sentinels as mutually guarded with all concept of the hour lost on that sultry afternoon… only before Meryl lowered her gaze to the ground, waiting for him to speak. A yearn for answers gnawed its relent at her patience while she willed such anxiety to yield for his sake. She had just told Milly to leave him be, and he was injured.

And with his former, gentle smile returning to his lips, Vash laid a palm on the hand that rested against his chest, those limp fingers cold and pale against his glove, and stated, "This… is Knives. My brother." That smile twitched as he confessed the sleeping man as kin. Almost ashamed… nearly culpable. But trying not to let on.

He saw Meryl's eyes start as the name left him, noticed her brow narrow slightly while she studied the twin draped over the Stampede's body: skin milk-white to Vash's subtle pink, cropped white tufts of hair rather than soft cornflower wafting by in the wind… could hear her breath tremble as it abandoned her, see her chest quiver further.

She knew.

This was Knives: the man responsible for all the death and destruction they had witnessed and tried in vain to ebb, fabled loather of mankind whose fantasy was nothing less than genocide… the one who hurt Vash intimately, made his life so brutal and repaid his kin with pain and haunting.

He'd done this.

"Take him from Vash, Milly, and bring him inside. We'll be in in a few minutes."

But what could she do?

The look on his face, the sacrifices he made for that hateful twin that refused to relinquish tyranny and sadism. He was so sad… so pitiful with those eyes that shown an inherent, surreal light, such precious salvation they held. A redemption to which she had once been ignorant— But by grace, by his love for humanity, no longer. Forever scarred he remained, forced to sorrow because of the delusions of a brother… because he chose the path of love so disparate from hate, yet was condemned to personal damnation. All because of Knives.

If he could forgive this evil, then so should she.

Turning back to the house yet locking her gaze with his, she took a few steps toward the door before saying, almost parched as her vision became blurred with the rush of tears that threatened her at seeing him once more this way, "You need to rest, so go upstairs and get in bed. I'll bring you up some soup." Although silence seemed to love them, spoken word a hindrance, scarcely gracious to their bond.

The legendary Humanoid Typhoon watched her as she disappeared into the structure, as the shadows of distance swallowed her figure, capturing her from his sight to remain in memory once more. He stayed behind for a moment, eyes unreadable, remembering the day he'd left her... them.

__

She was… so sad and fragile. Her eyes were intense, but not from anger or stubbornness like usual. They were weighed with sorrow and understanding, like Rem's always were. But they're even more rueful now… like she's been upset about something… like guilt.

So he walked into the house, stood in the doorway as he watched her at the stove, spooning broth and meat into the cracked, ceramic bowl— Her shoulders tense, warm lips nearly shivering as she clutched the handle. Refusing to face him.

"Meryl…"

"Just go upstairs, Vash," she said almost meekly, voice choked and tired—unlike the fiery woman he once knew, who would have snapped at him for disturbing her concentration. So mild now… docile as the newborn Thomas, receptive to any gentle caress and meager milk— Like one that's been broken, perhaps, to simply be implemented as a conveyance beast. Whipped and scourged into compliance. And she looked different… unnerving with her longer, dark strands that fell down her back and bangs nestling her neck. She was so nostalgic, genuinely beautiful, her face seeming softer with those tresses brushing it.

She looked like Rem.

He could feel the sweat fall down his face as he realized it, when the memories of her came back with this illusory reflection. He had been so resolute immediately after his victory over his brother, that he could let Rem go— But time had only made his feelings fade, it seemed. Those months had dulled the pain and past, but he couldn't deny it refuge within himself or stop it from coming back; for it was all a part of him—made him Vash. The blood was his, the guilt was his, his memories were shared with the two waiting women… and Rem was an integral piece of his historic puzzle. He could never really forget.

"Meryl, I…"

"If you won't go upstairs, then just sit down and eat!" she yelled at him fiercely, pulling the chair out and slamming the bowl on the table—steamy broth spilling over the bowl's edge and seeping along the rotten, now flavor-soaked wood in a bouillon ring.

There was that familiar energy of hers— But it wasn't simply anger that spurred her fit this time. More like desperation… a deep, loathing sadness he'd never seen in her before. Her eyes were too scintillant and lower lip chapped from being constantly bitten. This wasn't intensity… rather grief… over him.

For her sake and his own welfare, Vash sat down and took a sip of the soup. The moment the brew hit his tongue he forced a bright, vacant smile to his face and comically exclaimed, "Wow! This is really good! I should disappear more often so that I can get a decent meal around here!" in order to lighten the mood.

Big mistake.

She remained mute, resting her head on her hands, though he heard her stifled, repressed sobbing from within the threaded bars of her nocturne hair. Saw her fingers wet with glistening, liquid ribbons that wrapped her skin in misery. Strangled sniffle as she caught her breath.

She was crying. For him.

"Meryl…" he whispered, reaching his hand to her face— But she slapped it away.

"You bastard!" she choked while gripping the hem of her skirt, eyes clenched shut with further tears. "You leave for months without any word, any sign that you're even alive! 'I'm going to put a stop to all this,' you say. 'I have to confront Knives,' you say. And after leaving us in the shaft like that, you don't even have the decency to let us know you're alright!" Her eyes bore into his, body shaking with conviction.

"I figured you'd be gone for a couple weeks, and then you'd be back and I could tell you what I couldn't before you left. What I didn't have the guts to say. And I was fine for the first few months, Vash. I waited for you everyday, and I worried about you." Her breath was shaky, attempting to calm herself from her outburst... to stay in a meaningless control. "Sure, you've left us before. But at least we figured you were alive, and that was before I realized that--

"But then a couple months turned into a half a year, and I realized…"

A sob and exasperated cough.

"… I knew that you weren't t coming back."

She sobbed a few moments longer, wiping her eyes on her sleeve as he watched her stoically, green churning at her pained expression. Yet still his face was set as stone, trying to suppress his guilt. Wanting to concentrate on her words… not his memories.

"We stopped getting checks from the insurance agency a few months ago, and I don't know the hell why! Every time I try to call those idiots they hang up or refuse to answer my messages. And the townspeople are starting to get antsy again. It's like they've totally forgotten what we've done for them and are trying to evict us, because they know we have connections with you!" she yelled while bolting up from her chair, pointing an accusing finger between his eyes.

"It's as if… as if no one's changed, like humanity hasn't learned its lesson." She sank down into her chair despondently, her limbs so heavy and eyes so distant. Deprived. Regretful. Like her spirit was worn and feeble.

"You're so selfish, Vash." she sadly murmured from her tear-stained lips. "You hogged all the guilt for yourself, so humanity wouldn't get to feel it and learn from its mistakes. You took it all." Another sniffle.

"When did selfishness and selflessness become so similar, Vash? How could such a selfless person be ultimately selfish?"

"I didn't mean for it to end up this way. I just wanted humanity to have a right to live and show my brother that he was wrong." Her hand entwined with his.

"I never meant for Rem to die, or for you to get caught up in all this. The only thing I can say now is that we can start over and live our lives the way we deserve to live them. Because I'm… humanity's finally free, Meryl."

"Well la-de-da for mankind!" she spat back at him sarcastically, wiping her nose and turning towards the door in a flurry of withered, lilac petals—her dark hair and deep mythril eyes. No. Not a wilting lilac. A dying, sterling rose. Soft skin as smooth sepals, but with protective, angry thorns that drew both blood and tears. More beautiful than Rem's red geranium. To him, she was more beautiful than Rem… and much more important, perhaps.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving, Vash." Silence. "There was always some part of me that knew you'd come back, and if that inkling was right, I promised myself to do this and make a clean break."

A lone tear that sparkled in the sunlight, that illumined her face.

"Please take care of Milly. Make whatever excuse for her you want… or none at all if you think it best."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he cried as he grabbed her arms and shook her forcefully, if only to make her listen. She looked away. "You never run from responsibility, Meryl! What the hell's happened to you? Think about what you're saying."

She touched her hand to his cheek, mere whisper. Her warm breath teased against his lips. "You killed me, Vash."

The widening of his eyes. A gasp.

"Because you didn't come back, since you didn't seem to care enough about Milly or me to even let us know you were okay— I gave up on you. You kill any friend or enemy you meet, Vash, because I died that day I realized, that I understood you couldn't… love me… the way I needed.

"It just can't be."

"But Meryl…"

And she silenced him with a kiss, her lips upon his own and their spit melded in the sweet union of the forbidden--of what couldn't be. Their breath was one and souls shared. Inseparable. In a lovers' moment of skin upon undiscovered flesh and tongues betrothed. A sense of belonging.

Then there was nothing but the warmth of the suns as he opened his eyes to see her walking into the fading light, less than a shadow in the distance.

The shell of Meryl Stryfe… the woman he loved.


End file.
